Comforting The Queen
by Angel1876
Summary: He was always gentle with her.


He was always gentle when he touched her, hands as soft and careful against her skin as if she was made of glass. He'd run his fingers through her hair, lips pressed to her forehead, his voice little more than a quiet cooing. Comforting words to quell the growing fear that they'd never make it out of the gallery.

Which they wouldn't, of course. But she didn't need to know that.

She didn't have to know she was going to be there forever. Time would ease her into that idea. The passing years and the ever fading memory of what lay beyond their painted world would wear her down without his help. Eventually, she'd give up, and accept her place as the new queen without a fight.

He trailed circular patterns into the side of her neck as she curled in his lap, tears in her eyes from the relentless hostility of her own nightmares. For hours, he spoke to her, although he wouldn't remember what it was he was saying. It didn't matter, she responded more to his tone than she did to his words. Still dazed from fear and exhaustion, she never noticed the way he lingered over her throat, his grip never harsh but the suggestion of such lay behind the gesture all the same.

He hated her for taking Mary away.

Not because he liked Mary, oh no. He hated her because his purpose was to keep the queen happy. She was the queen, whether she knew it or not, and what made her happy?

The ragged, filthy deadbeat that followed her around the gallery, of course.

He hated this form. He hated being gentle. He hated that mans' friendly smile and reassuring attitude.

The bone in the neck was such a fragile thing, was it not? He knew this, knew he could break himself free of this curse with an easy, painless snap. She trusted him to a fault, would never see it coming even as his hands descended on either side of her head.

He didn't twist her neck. He only nuzzled his face into her scalp and murmured endlessly about how safe she was, how she could go back to sleep and he'd still be there. Always be there. Never going to leave her, never ever going to leave her alone, abandoned in the empty gallery.

Not that he could leave her, so long as she was alive. It went against everything he was to even suggest to himself that he should just ignore her and let her suffer. He could either keep her close and make her smile, or he could kill her. There was no middle ground.

And what if he killed her? What would happen to the gallery without a queen to run it?

Sometimes, he caught her looking at him, a frown tugging her lips downward in a moment of suspicion. Those were the times he was forced to call upon the other beings that lived with them. The red, blue and yellow ladies, eyes gleaming as they dragged themselves toward her on the floor. A threat, or so it looked like one. The weak creatures never found the courage to actually hurt her, as much as they snarled and brandished their nails like claws.

He'd take her hand, drag her through hallway after hallway, leading her in circles until she was breathless and dizzy. Then he'd pull her into a protective hug and together they'd wait in a corner, shivering and hoping not to be found.

Once or twice, just to keep up the semblance of danger, they were indeed found and chased some more.

Playing the hero never failed to make her forget the slight hardness that strained the skin around his eyes. The way his teeth would clench even as he soothed a trail down her arms or massaged her temples. The smell of paint that followed him wherever he went, sickly sweet and tasting of poison, nothing like his real counterparts' scent of lemon candy mixed with the bitter undertone of cigarette smoke.

Over and over, just to prove his loyalty to the queen, he'd save her. He'd croon to her through the fear he himself created, and he'd reaffirm his role as guardian by shielding her from the harmless. It was almost funny, in a way, when he was the one thing left that could steal away the life from her fragile body. Maybe, eventually, he would. He would face the unknown repercussions of ending her and finally be allowed to return to his true form, or at least fade into the abyss and never be forced to pretend for anyone again.

But for the moment...

For the moment, he was gentle when he touched her.


End file.
